


first kiss

by winchestersinthedrift



Series: wincest drabbles [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Jealous Sam, M/M, Sexual Tension, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersinthedrift/pseuds/winchestersinthedrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He stops his brain, there, carefully, and focuses on Sam, who keeps opening his mouth and then letting it slowly close again, like he’s maybe going to start talking, but in the meantime it’s fucking distracting and Dean wishes he’d stop.'</p><p>Dean comes back from a date. Sam wants him. Dean isn't sure about anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	first kiss

It’s almost midnight when Dean gets back - the girl had curfew, like most of the kids in this honkytonk town, even the ones in high school. Sam’s awake in the motel room where they’ve been shacked up for three weeks now, waiting out the hottest days of summer while Dad does reconnaissance. 

Sam’s sitting on the end of one of the beds, stripped down to his boxers because of the heat, and he’s got the AC cranked – they’ve had it cranked since the day they walked in and dropped their duffels on the floor, pretty much – but it’s barely taking the edge off. The weirder part is that the tv’s off - Sam’s just sitting there, staring at the wall. Dean steps in front of him and leans back against the tv stand, watches the beads of sweat roll down between his brother’s pecs. He’s still not used to Sam _having_ pecs and sure as hell not used to the weird reaction he seems to be having to them lately. To pecs and to…other things. He shakes his head hard and pushes a can of coke against Sam’s chest. It’s cold, beaded with moisture, and Sam starts a little and takes it, pops the tab.

‘Thanks.’

‘Sure. What’s eating you?’

It’s a poor choice of words because the minute he’s said it he’s blushing. Honestly right at the moment Dean’s more pissed than freaked out by the whole thing. He’s pissed cause he’s just gone out with Tiffany Lewis and made out in the car for ages, got her off and she gave him a handjob and that should have taken care of things but now ( _fuck_ ) he’s hard again and it’s because - 

He stops his brain, there, carefully, and focuses on Sam, who keeps opening his mouth and then letting it slowly close again, like he’s maybe going to start talking, but in the meantime it’s fucking distracting and Dean wishes he’d stop. 

‘Sam,’ he says, trying again to get this thing under control, ‘talk to me, man.’

Sam stands up and he’s just about Dean’s height these days, lanky but not as thin as he used to be and not as soft either. He’s got ropey muscles all down his thighs and arms and Dean’s noticed lately that his shoulders are bulking up, moving from the reediness of post-pubescence to the shape of a grown man. He tries not to look at them as Sam steps closer and ends up looking at Sam’s jaw, which isn’t a whole lot better. 

‘Out with Tiffany?’ Sam said abruptly, instead of answering the question, and Dean nodded. 

‘Yeah.’

‘Have a good time?’

There was an undercurrent to Sam’s tone Dean couldn’t read, and suddenly he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, to try to figure it out. He pushed off from the tv stand and headed for the bathroom, peeling his shirt up over his head as he went.

‘Yeah, it was fine. Gonna have a showe-’

When the tshirt came up past his eyes Sam was standing right there in his face, arm across the doorframe to keep him from going into the bathroom. Dean could smell the scent of Sam’s musk and sweat (since when did his brother smell like _musk_ ) and see the flutter of his racing pulse at his throat. 

‘Sam, what the fuck - lemme-’

‘I wanna makeyoufeelgoodtoo you know,’ Sam said, all in a rush. Dean just stood there with a look that he hoped conveyed code red levels of annoyance but really he wasn’t that sure at all because _what had Sam just said_?? and why couldn’t he stop looking at Sam’s lips and his tongue glistening behind his teeth and the crazy slant of his eyes –

‘I - I _wanna_ ,’ said Sam, again, and his tongue came out quick and wet over his lips. Dean was waiting for his brain to catch up with things and tell him what was happening, but he fell with relief on one thing he knew on gut instinct - Sam was about two seconds from freaking out, and _that_ he could deal with, that much he knew how to –

Then Sam’s thumb was nudging against Dean’s lower lip, pulling it to the side, gliding slow through the slickness of his inner lip, and Dean grabbed the doorframe over Sam’s hand and said 

‘Sammy,’ 

not really a question, not quite like a rebuke. Then Sam’s face was against his and Sam was kissing hot and wet below his ear and Dean cupped a hand around the back of Sam’s head, groping, fingers hesitant, touching his hair but not gripping, because this wasn’t really happening.

If he touched, for real, he’d wake up, he thought vaguely. Well, fuck it. He’d deal with waking up, if that was the price. 

‘ _Sammy_ ,’ he said, husky, and pulled his brother’s head in hard and kissed him.


End file.
